


Reclamation Day | A Fallout 76 Introduction

by 3rd_r8_rightr



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 76
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rd_r8_rightr/pseuds/3rd_r8_rightr
Summary: Salvador is a 30-something year old wastelander that grew up in irradiated Appalachia. He lives day to day by himself and makes the best of it. When he stumbles across a group of blue, jumpsuit-clad people, he helps them start a fire and learns a little bit about them. Now, it's his turn to share.





	Reclamation Day | A Fallout 76 Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So I'm back here again and I am super excited to get to play the Fallout 76 BETA later tonight. I wanted to write this ficlet as a sort of introduction for my player character, Salvador. 
> 
> I'm roleplaying Salvador as a non-Vault Dweller character. In this ficlet, he came across a group of Vault Dwellers in their first night in Appalachia. They struggled to start a fire so they got his help and he stook around for a bit.  
>    
> I hope you all enjoy learning about Salvador and maybe I'll write some more of his adventures. Don't worry though, I'm still hard at work with my big Fallout 4 fanfic that I hope to have Act #1 done soon and start posting if anyone would want to read that :^) 
> 
> The mature warning is also for language. There's really no actions here.

_"What about you? What's your story?"_

Everyone turns their attention to Salvador, who's busy lighting a cigarette. The glow of his match dances on his dark, brown skin. His hair is in a lazy bun and that _enticing_ beard growing on his face screams outdoorsy. He shakes his spent match and throws it aside before tugging on that _sick_ leather jacket of his and flicks a small bug off of his rugged jeans.

When he realizes the group of newly freed Vault Dwellers were talking to _him,_ he turns his attention back to the others. They're all sitting around a much-appreciated campfire (that Salvador helped start when he came across them struggling to light one) that feels great in these chilly, autumn nights. "Oh. _Me?_ You want to know about me?" he asks for clarification.

_"Yeah, you."_

_"Were you really outside of the Vault?"_

_"What have you seen around Appalachia now?"_

He huffs. " _Psh._ I don't have a story," he takes a drag of his cigarette. "I'm just some guy who lives in the fucking woods," he points behind him with his thumb.  

_"Bullshit. Everyone has a story."_

_"That rifle on your back. Talk about that! You some soldier?"_

He chuckles a little, amused that these people think there's some hidden _lore_ tied to his sniper. "It's my gun. I take aim, pull the trigger, pop some fucker's head off, and then I go and see what prizes I won."

_"Okay, then who taught you how to use it?"_

_"Or were you_ really _all alone this_ whole _time?"_

"No, no… I use to roll with some people, but then I changed my mind," he takes another casual drag of his cigarette. "Groups don't work out for me. It's easier when you only have to worry about yourself."

_"Oh, come on, you don't have to act like some bad ass, tough guy."_

"Ah, trust me on that one!" he tells the group, nodding. "It fucking _sucks_ when you see shit start to fall apart… You _fixate_ on it too, you know?" he wiggles his cigarette, "And it's not like you can tell yourself it'll just _fix_ itself. People get sick. People die. People start to fight over dirty water and dented cans. People can't take it and—" he turns his hand into a gun and mimics pulling the trigger against his temple, tongue click included.

 _"R-Really?"_  

Salvador laughs—overall, he's pretty cheery even now, dropping hard truths on these people. "It's fucked, but, I'm telling you—that's the shit I've lived and that's why I just avoid groups all together at this point. It's worked out for me so far," he shrugs sounding… unfazed by it all. Hell, he even smirks a little still.

_"Goodness…"_

_"That's… wow…"_

"Eh, it's whatever. _Así va la vida._ That's what _mi_ _ap_ _á_ use to say at least. If I let myself get choked up and spend all my time crying, I'd be some bones you find on a morning stroll."

 _"… So… somebody_ did _teach you? How to use that gun?"_

_"Yeah, this is too depressing—I want to change the subject."_

"I picked up my first gun when I was… shit, when I six maybe?"

_The group looks horrified—a six-year-old with a gun?_

" _Ay_ , don't look at me like that; I _had_ to learn," he laughs a little. "I was only about this tall—" he gestures with his cigarette held between his index and middle finger "—when those fucking _bombas_ dropped on us. First it was _mi_ _ap_ _á_ who showed _mi am_ _á_ , my brother, and then me how to use guns. Now _he_ was a soldier," he takes a drag of his cigarette, "… When we lost him, _am_ _á_ got us in with another group and then some other guy showed us how to use other guns and when we lost _am_ _á_ and it was just me and Enzo and whoever was left over in that group."

_"Enzo?"_

_"Is that your brother?"_

"Yeah. _Lorenzo_ ," he smiles proudly.  

_"What happened to him?"_

… That smile dies down a little, though. He takes another drag of his cigarette. "Shit, I wish I could tell you," he exhales. "I, ugh… lost track of Enzo a few years ago. There were a few of us still together by the end of it… We were doing okay… They all looked to Enzo and he did his best taking care of us, but he wasn't a fucking psychic… We were eating some shitty grub one night, around a campfire like this, when we got ambushed by some fuckers— _psychos_ that would hunt people down and raid any camp or town they passed through for all of its supplies."

_"Oh no…"_

_"Oh my God…"_

_"… Shit…"_

"Yeah—shit is _right_. They took some of us…" he scoffs, thinking about it some more. "But I mean, who am I kidding? I didn't care about the others, but those _fuckers_ took off with Enzo," he passes his tongue under his top row of teeth, bobbing his head. "… They took my brother 'cuz he had to be a _fucking hero_ and made sure I got out safe. … _Pendejo…_ " he mutters with a hint of remorse. "So, yeah. I don't know what happened to him. _Realistically speaking?_ I hope he's dead 'cuz I've heard of some _fucked up shit_ raiders to do people they capture."

_"Jesus Christ, man…"_

_"That's fucked up…"_

_"Man, I'm sorry to hear—"_

"Don't be sorry. Don't be sad—it happened. I grieved for _mi ap_ _á_ , _mi am_ _á_ , my _sister_ —"

_"Wait, you had a sister?"_

"Ah, _Eloisa_ ," he smiles fondly, "I-I don't remember much about her unfortunately," he waves his cigarette around. "A few months before the _bombas_ dropped, we left her at the airport 'cuz she was flying out to California to start school—engineering or some shit, I don't know. First in the family and all that. That was the last we ever saw of her," he takes a deep breath. "She's probably dead, in all honesty, but the point is; _I've done this already._ That's how it works now and you can't let yourself get all emotional and shit. You still have to face tomorrow and the day after."

_"That's… shit, man, that's depressing."_

He lifts his shoulder and upturns his palms. "Maybe. It's what works for me though," he lowers his arms. "I mean—this is just what happens when you've been doing this as long as I have. You guys are still fresh out of that Vault, right? What was it? 67? 76?"

_"76, yeah."_

_The group collectively nods._

"Then watch yourselves out there," he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt to the side. "Maybe you guys will be the ones that make it out there as a team. Maybe you'll see what I mean by being more comfortable alone."

_"… Do you really think we could make it out here? In Appalachia?"_

_"Everything feels so… different—fucking alien."_

_"I'm starting to wonder if it was a good idea to even leave…"_

Salvador slightly purses his lips, tilting his head side to side. " _¿Quién sabe?_ Maybe. Maybe not," he smirks. "You guys left that Vault together. I can only assume you were all… what? Friends back inside? Maybe you guys are the closest thing to a family you have right now. Maybe you guys will watch each other's backs and fight fucking _tooth_ and _nail_ to keep your family safe. Maybe you'll turn on each other when medicine runs low."

_"… Food, water… Medicine… Shit…"_

_"It's different when you have a Mr. Handy bringing you whatever you need, yeah…"_

_"We knew what the risks were when we left the Vault."_

" _Mira_ , _"_ he grabs their attention again, _"_ I don't want to sound like Mr. Doom-and-Gloom. I just hit my thirties and _this_ is all I've known. I didn't get to fall asleep every night in a… what do you guys have? Clean beds, unlimited water, and hot meals every day? If you guys prove me wrong then _¡perfecto!_ " he genuinely smiles and moves his shoulders, "I'm glad that you guys have each other, but, if it doesn't work? Then… have a backup plan and get ready to bail when shit hits the fan."

_The group… nods. They accept what he's saying, but they don't look too happy._

He picks up on this and thinks: _"Ugh…"_ he scratches the back of his head, "Just… remember that you're all after the same thing out here: _survival. Survive together._ But, look—it's getting late. I'll let you guys settle in for the night," he stands up and dusts himself off.

_"Aw, wait—you're leaving?"_

_"You don't have to—"_

He waves them off. "I gave you newbies all the advice I had. I think it's time I get some sleep. I have another day of surviving tomorrow and all that," he stretches. "Thanks for the campfire," he winks, teasingly (hopefully they'll remember how he started it too).  

He takes a few steps towards the dark trees, reaching for a small flashlight in his jacket's pocket that he has to hit to get to turn on. "Oh! One more thing!" he turns back to the group, "If you see freaks with green shit in their skin?"

_The group perks up._

_"Kill them,"_ he glares at the group. "They're _not_ human and you _can't_ reason with them."

He walks away from the group, throwing up a little peace sign and using his flashlight to guide him.

… Once he's away from the group of Vault Dwellers and amongst the familiarity of the forest, he can take a moment to be himself.

He puts a hand in the leather jacket's pocket. He loves this jacket so much—with his rifle and that hatchet strapped to his belt, this jacket is one of his most prized possessions. The leather is old and slowly starting to wear at this point, but that's to be expected.

 _This is, after all, Lorenzo's jacket:_ the _one_ thing he could salvage when he went back to look for him—for any sign where they might've taken him; for any sign that he was still alive… Salvador smiles, thinking about the day Lorenzo found it when they looked through an old shop that that had seen better days. Lorenzo always wanted one and Salvador was kind of jealous, but it looked so great on his brother (Lorenzo found out there was some kind of plastic lining it for pre-war motorcyclists).

 _"… Ay, Enzo…"_ he says under his breath after getting lost in his thoughts. _"Cuídate, dondequiera que est_ _á_ _s."_


End file.
